Just a  cold
by Mattora
Summary: Timothy McGee is suffering from a cold and from his collagues fussing  all over him... Minor funpiece, a bit Mc!Whump
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Tim is suffering from a cold - and his collagues fussing all over him. **

**Just some silly minor Mc!Whump :)**

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**Just a … cold**

"Ha-choo!!"  
"McGee?"  
"It's just a cold Boss."  
If only his throat had played along, he might have gotten away with it. Well, at least his impression of Kermit got him 9 out of 10…  
"Go home McGee."  
Tim didn't try to flinch at the harsh tone, for he knew Gibbs wasn't angry at him. At least not very much. It wasn't like he had destroyed any evidence by sneezing; In fact, he had only sneezed once or twice since coming to the crime scene, it was not like he was a liability, and how could he talk to him like he was still nothing but a Probie! But when he met the typical Gibbs stare – the one that reminded him fatally of a dog trainer – he kept his complains for himself and headed outside.

At least Tony wasn't there to tease him, and Ziva might cast him an amused glance, but keep her mouth shut. It wasn't like he wanted to stay anyway, collecting evidence and admiring the blood stains at the wall, trying not to think of the _brain_ splattered all over the couch. He felt his stomach lurch at the image, but fortunately he could fight the urge to gag. No, he wouldn't vomit in front of 5 people whom he knew at least 2 well enough to fear they would mock him to death…

Tired, he slipped into his car, feeling as if he ran a marathon. Made it was a good thing after all Gibbs send him home, he really didn't feel all that well…

-.-.-.-.-.-  
-2.47-

_This … had better to be … important…  
_  
Tim felt like an 80 year old as he rolled out his bed groaning to slowly making his way over to the door. His nose felt twice it's original size, and he was wheezing like an old steam train. Why hadn't he ever notice how freaking large his apartment was? It felt like hours had passed when he finally reached the door, opening it slowly. Who would ring his door bell in the middle of the night? Only now his foggy brain told him it might be someone who would kill him, and he should have gotten his gun with him … too late…

Outside in the cold autumn mist stood a far to cheerful little man, dressed in a beige coat, apparently not aware how late – or early – it was. "Ah, Timothy! Oh my, you look aweful!"  
Dragging some wet leaves in, Ducky just passed Tim, pushing him inside. Used to brightly lit rooms he switched on the light, ignoring his patients silent moan.

"Young man, you really shouldn't be running round barefoot in your condition! Have you taken anything? Ah, let's hope you're not contagious anymore, how long have you been feeling bad?"  
Tim slowly followed him, his brain having problems processing the elder man's words in time.  
"Uhm … hui… Ducky… Why are you here?"  
The look he threw him was almost accusing as he opened his bag.  
"Haven't I got the right to check on you? Gibbs told me you were coming down with something, and you really shouldn't be so reckless about your health, I remember the time 1918, when many young men thought it was nothing but a common cold, and next day they were dying from the worst Influenza ever!"

Tim slumped down on a kitchen chair, shaking his head in disbelieve. It was almost three o'clock in the morning, he was not going to have an argument about the Spanish flu right now.  
"It's only a cold! Honestly, all I need is some Aspirin and a few hours rest-"  
But with his typical scary eagerness, Ducky was already all over him.

"You have some minor fever, and your reactions are sluggish, do you have muscle pains? Coughing fits?"  
Tim wondered if he could get away with just gently shoving the doc out of his apartment, for though he was grateful for his concern, all he wanted was to get some sleep. He was freezing, and Ducky poking him and shining a flashlight in his hurting eyes wasn't very helpful either.

Finally he stopped bugging him, aware of Tim already being half asleep again, barely listening to his friend.  
"… you better get back to bed young man, although this looks much like a common cold, we better not take chances, take two of these three times a day, I will come to check on you tomorrow. You need to drink a lot, make sure of that!"  
"Hu… right… thanks…"

Too tired to make sure his guest found his way out, Tim tapped back into his bed room, barely making it to the mattress before collapsing. God, he was so tired…

-.-.-.-.-.-

-12.05-

_But this time … he'd really be angry …. This time it had better to be … important for real…_

Tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Tim is suffering from a cold - and his collagues fussing all over him. **

**Rather short, sorry  
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**Guess who's visting this time? **

**Thanks for reviewing and putting Just a cold on C2 and alerts! You are great:hug:**

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******Just a … cold**

_-12.05-_

_But this time ... This time it had better to be … important for real…_

Tim considered ignoring the ringing of the doorbell, but whoever was out there wasn't likely to just take the hint and leave him alone, would he? At least he hadn't been asleep this time, just dozing. Clad in socks and grey gym clothes, he made the long way from his bed to the door, hoping he didn't look like he felt, or he'd give somebody a heart attack. "Who's –cough- there?"  
Hm, Clint Eastwood, at least not Kermit anymore.  
"The big bad wolf – will ya let me in Probie, or do I have to pick your lock?"  
DiNozzo? And he had just started feeling better…  
"Hi Tony… why are you here? Should you be at work?"  
The grin plastered across Tony's face made Tim want to crawl back into bed, as he didn't even try to hide the camera he was holding.  
"Common, stop it Tony…"  
"Hey, say cheese!"  
The flash made brought back the little man with the sledgehammer in his head, letting him contine were the Aspirin had stopped him this morning.  
Since protesting would be futile anyway, Tim just let him pass by and closed the door behind him.  
"You are worse than the plague…"  
"Hey, that wasn't nice of you Probie – but look, I even brought you something to eat!"

…

"Feeling better?" Tim nodded weakly, leaning back against the wall.  
"Didn't know you were into irish sports McGee ."  
He couldn't even muster the strength to open his eyes. God, he was feeling so tired… not to mention embarrassed, sweaty and miserable. Had he really just spent 5 minutes retching? In front of his senior fellow agent? Who no doubt had taken pictures? Could somebody take pity on him and kill him?  
"Hu?"  
"Well, you're quite good at hurling it must say."  
Could he strangle him and have it look like an accident?

At least he help him to get up and rinse his mouth, and even made sure he made it back to bed safe.  
When Tim opened his eyes later this afternoon, he even found the water glass on his night stand had been refilled. Still, he swore he was going to get back at Tony one day for bringing over Anchovies pizza over when he was sick. But maybe he would first sleep over it for a night…

_ -21.56-_

"Helloooo? Anybody home? Tim??"  
When the lights flickered on his bed room, Tim was glad he didn't keep his shotgun in his bed room. By now he was ready to shoot almost anybody disturbing his sleep…

Tbc…


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: Tim is suffering from a cold - and his collagues fussing all over him.  
****I have reread and tried to kill all the mistakes this time, please excuse me if anyones left :) **

**This one is longer, and I really feel for poor Tim; I am suffering from Harvest ****mites bites currently...  
I think I'm going nuts with all that itching !!**

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**Thanks for reviewing and caring:hug:D  
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_-21.56-_

"Helloooo? Anybody home? Tim??"  
When the lights flickered on his bed room, Tim was glad he never kept his shotgun with him when he got to sleep. By now he was ready to shoot almost anybody disturbing his sleep…

"Oh, sorry – better now?"  
Fortunately his guest had turned the lights down again, and was now standing in the doorway, a dark silhouette against the light in the living room. Tim watched his guest came closer, and switch on a lighter to then ignite a candle. If it hadn't been for he only knew only one black clad gothic lady with a key to his apartment, the grey hippo in her right hand would have been the final clue to the mysterious visitor's identity.  
"Hi Abby…"  
Hearing a soft fart, Tim really had to ask himself why his reality so much more fictional than his fiction in fact.  
"I hope that was Bert ?

Watching the candles flicker now and then, while lying face down on his mattress with a gothic lady -who looked lovely in her new black and pink skull shirt - pinning him down, Tim couldn't help feeling like some black magic sacrifice offering... He felt something cold drip on his back, but in this position he couldn't see anything.  
"Abby? What's that?"  
He frowned as he recognized the sweet smell of eucalyptus.  
"This better not be cough syrup."  
She gave him a playful slap on his bare lower back.   
"Relax Tim, it's just some balsam – Ducky gave it to me, so it's gonna be okay."  
"Balsam? It's not like I'm dying here or about to coughi up lung … It's really just a cold…"  
Still, having Abby give him a back rub was way too comfortable to complain. Bert sat on the chair next to his bed, grinning stupidly at him.  
"If Gibbs send you home, it had be quite a bad cold. Since you are running a fever and have been throwing up, I guess you rather caught a minor flu than a cold – or wait, you didn't open any letters containing white powder? "  
"Tony told you about... of course he did... no letters..."  
Sighing softly, Tim relaxed further. He almost had forgotten how soft and warm Abby's hands felt on bare skin…

"Oh my, Tim -you have had chicken pox, haven't you?"  
He tried to turn his lift his head up as she suddenly stop her massage.  
"Yes, why'd you ask?"  
"Okay … I guess, you'd better get up and take a shower… and do you have any ointment here for allergic reactions?"  
Confused Tim sat up, trying to look at his back to see what Abby was refering to, not understand her – at least not until the itching started.

"Hm, that only leaves elderberry … You never had a reaction towards it before? "  
"Dunno – sniff. Could … Could you give me –sniff- another tissue?"  
"Sure."  
Sympathetically, Abby continued to rub in the ointment on his reddening back.  
"The rash is not so bad – at least not like the one of your poison ivy encounter…"  
"Thanks, now that's –sniff- really something…"  
Tim knew he shouldn't be angry towards Abby of all people, for she only had meant to do him some good; It wasn't neither her nor Ducky's fault he was allergic towards elderberry...  
But with his eyes swollen, all red and scabby, complete with a blotched, running nose and his back itching like hell in places he couldn't possibly scratch, he didn't feel much like being reasonable.

Just in time to complete his dark thoughts, Abby's cell phone went off. Tim really didn't mean to eavesdrop their conversation, but it was rather hard to not hear Gibbs angry shouts from the other end of the line.  
She smiled apologetic as she hung up a few seconds later.  
"Sorry Tim, I knew I should really stay - but Gibbs just called, looks like we've got a little computer problem – nothing I can't handle on my own, of course, and I'll be back in no time, maybe Ducky will give me something stronger for your back? Why don't you try to sleep meanwhile, I'll leave Bert here to keep you company."

For a second she looked like giving him one of her famous death squeeze hugs, and Tim had a hard time to not feel offended when she decided to better not. Did he really look that much like a leaper? Instead she choose to pet his still wet hair as a goodbye.  
"See ya Tim! be a good boy, and I'll be back in no time!"  
Throwing him a kiss and, she quickly snuff off the candles and grabbed her jacket.

Hearing the door slam, Tim threw the grinning hippo a dark glance. Get a farting stuffed animal in exchange for having ones favorite gothic girl leave for work (who was giving him a wonderful, soothing back rub) was just not fair!

_-5.35-_

Slowly opening his eyes, he took in a bleary, way to dark world. He had the strangest sensation of somebody dragging him across the floor by his arms, his feet pulling over the carpet. Someone was swearing close to his ear, calling his name…

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: Tim is suffering from a cold - and his collagues fussing all over him.  
**

Number four, two to go... I hope you enjoy this, though it's highly ooc I'm afraid, isn't it? O.o Sorry

**Thanks for reading!**

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_-5.35-_

Slowly opening his eyes, he took in a bleary, way to dark world. He had the strangest sensation of somebody dragging him across the floor by his arms, his feet pulling over the carpet. Someone was swearing close to his ear, calling his name…

"McGee!!"

When no one had answered to his knocking and ringing, Gibbs had picked the locks to let himself him. His agent was most likely dead asleep, and though he'd rather have his men on alert 24/7, he couldn't blame McGee for curing his cold, could he?

"McGee?"

He slowly pushed the bedroom door open and swore at the sight, drawing his gun in an instant and checking the room for possible threats. No sign of break-in, everything was still in place except for the sheets, no sign for struggle. Still holding his gun, Gibbs dropped to his knees, checking the life signs of the still form lying on the floor. Though his skin was cold to the touch, McGee's pulse was normal, as was breathing. Gibbs released a breath he hadn't notice holding.

"McGee? Can you hear me? Damn, McGee!!"

Gibbs shook the man none to gentle, only to have his hand slap away along with a murmur protest.

"J'st a minute mom … "

His relief was quickly washed away by the healthy standard Gibbs' anger, and he grabbed McGee's arms to drag him back into bed, not caring he dragged the rug Tim had lain on with him.

"What the hell have you been thinking McGee, sleeping on the floor like that?"

The harsh tone seemed through cut through his sleepiness.

"Boss? … What are you doing here? Am I ... late for ... work?"

Since it was still mostly dark, it couldn't be that late? Still Tim tried to get up, only to immediately lay back down as ge found himself facing a really, really pissed off Gibbs.

"Are you nuts!! I thought you were smart enough to just lay down and cure that cold of you, not kill yourself by sleeping on the floor half naked! We need you, you just can't kill yourself by stupidy!"

Sleeping on the floor? Why'd he do that? HE blinked at Gbbs, obviously having a hard time remembering the night before. His head hurt even worse than yesterday ... Ah ... Abby had come over, and she'd given him a wonderful backrub … and she left Bert over, who was still sitting on the chair, grinning … Oh!

"Uhm sorry boss… I have a rash on my back … I couldn't reach it to scratch, so when the itching got worse I thought I might try just laying down on the carpet … and … Uhm, well, I must have fallen asleep…"

"Maybe next time you think first before having me call the morgue in advance."

Gibbs still looked angry, but Tim doubted it was about finding an agent asleep on the floor, so hr began to wonder why he came over in the first place. Had something bad happened? Were the others okay?

"Uhm … Boss… I mean Gibbs – why are you here? And … What are you looking for in my closet?"

This was getting stranger by the minute, as the other agent returned with a pile of clothes and a bag, throwing both on the bed. The dark scowl on his face would have scared of a professional assassin.

"Get yourself dressed, somebody killed all of our computers; those so called computer specialists don't have a clue what they're doing, so I need you, healthy or not. We suspect a terrorist behind this. And until Ducky does give you green lights, you stay over at mine; at least my guest room has carpeted floor."

Tim gaped at him like a fish out of water, somewhat horrified. Staying over at his boss' house? Thinking about it, catching pneumonia falling asleep on his bed room floor didn't seem so bad in comparison…

- 1.43 PM -

_Since he had been a small child, he hated camping. It wasn't for the cold, or the noises, or the dark woods surrounding the tent, or the fact that he was at least an hours drive away from the next hospital facility... No... It was - each time Tim would fall asleep, the same nightmare would come to haunt him … He was alone, lying shivering in the dark, and he heard him come… big, military boots … Tim would curl up, rigid with fear, knowing Rambo would just reach down, touch his shoulder and say,  
"So there you are, McGee!"_

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: Tim is suffering from a cold.  
**

This is the fifth and final part. Huge, huge thanks to sweet iheartGibbs for the beta :hug:

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Thank you all for reading!**

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- 1.43 PM –  
Since he had been a small child, he hated camping. It wasn't for the cold, or the noises or the dark woods surrounding the tent. Each time Tim would fall asleep, the same nightmare would come to haunt him… He was alone, lying shivering in the dark, and he heard him come… big, military boots … Tim would curl up, rigid with fear, knowing Rambo would just reach down, touch his shoulder and say,_  
_

_ "So there you are, McGee!"_

_...  
_

"Sorry… I really didn't-" 

"I said, it's okay. And you really don't have much of a swing for an agent."

Still, Tim felt really guilty for the red mark he had left on her right cheek. Feeling the touch on his shoulder, he had just lashed out in panic, slapping Ziva right across the face. And, as if punching a female colleague wasn't bad enough, there was also him calling her Rambo to feel embarrassed about.

"Maybe you should let Ducky check you over."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, smiling dangerously.

"Who says I don't like to be on the receiving end of a strong hand for once?"

Tim stared at her, a blush creeping over his face. After all, he was sitting here in a dark storeroom in the NCIS headquarters, lying on a borrowed futon, doing small talk with a female mercenary who had killed for less than slapping her across the face and insulting her.

"Uhm… if you say… Uhm, you got new information on the hacker?"

Her face went from cheerful to scowl in less than a second, but at least he was off the hook. Tim did pity the poor guy who had done this, for Ziva would no doubt open up a whole new dimension of pain on him for making private pictures of her computer pull up on the main screen.

"No. But I will make him pay, once I find him. How is it coming along? You know, Gibbs is getting impatient… "

Gibbs? Impatient? No way… Hopefully he wouldn't come down himself to see why it took Tim so long, though it was not like he could quicken the process anyway. Gibbs would not approve of seeing him sleep at work.

"The program is still busy restoring the log files, I thought it'd take a short break, I'll be…"

"McGee, stop vindicating yourself! I just came down to check on you – and escape Tony, who is annoying the hell out of anybody not busy fixing the damn computers."

Tim couldn't help but frown – Ziva, checking up in him? Ducky had said it was just a cold, right? Why would she look after him if he wasn't dying? He was dying, wasn't he? And Ziva was the only one who was blunt enough to tell him?

"Stop that, McGee."

"Uhm, what?"

"You have that look again – do you really think I do not care about you? About everybody on the team?"

"No, I…"

"Look, I know I might be a bit hard sometimes, even cold hearted – but someone has to be rational! I do care, so I can't let my emotions endanger anybody!"

She looked seriously offended, avoiding Tim's eyes, stubbornly staring down at Abby's futon.

"Uhm – I didn't – you know – I know you care. It's just a bit – surprising?"

Obviously this wasn't the right choice of words, for his colleague still refused to look up.

"I know they call me Miss Iceberg… as cold as a steel toilet seat in the Yukon…"

Absentmindedly, Tim pointed out," Brass toilet seat," which earned him a look of hurt, but also exasperation.

"Look, I know how you feel. You know how Tony calls me Probie? And McGeek? I constantly felt like nobody really appreciated my work, as if I was nothing but a useless appendix to the team, which shouldn't really be there except for doing a bit of typing. But it's at times like this I realize I do belong here. You all come to see me, and care for me a lot. And even if you hadn't come to visit me, I still would have known you do care too, Ziva. It's only you usually don't show your concern this openly – I know you have your reasons to not do so - but I just know you really care. And…"

"MCGEE!! Were the hell are you? The techs screwed up again! Get up here at once!!"

The agents winced at the barking from the overhead speakers.

"Wow. Gibbs does know how to get some attention, doesn't he?"

"I'd better get going before he tries to murder anybody."

Ziva helped him to roll the futon up and handed him his jacket. He was almost out of the door when she called after him.  
"McGee?"

"Yes?"

"What were you going to say before Gibbs interrupted you?"

Now that he was back into 'work mode', his little bedroom speak seemed very embarrassing to him, and he would have loved to just brush it off as unimportant – but the insecure look on Ziva's face told him she needed to hear what he had meant to say, out loud.  
"I wanted to say, thank you for caring."

Before either of them could carry on, the overhead rang again.  
"MCGEE!!"

"On it, Boss!!"

Yes, it all came down to caring for each other…

_ -3.49-_  
…  
"Tim?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay? I heard you were sick…"

He smiled tiredly, happy to see her face again; even if it was in the dead of night and he could barely see her in the dark guest room.

"Nah, it's just a cold … You don't have to be worried, I'll be fine."

"That's good to hear. But I think I should leave now, you really need some sleep."

"You're probably right… Thanks for visiting..."

"You're welcome… Goodnight Tim. I hope you get well soon."

"I will … it's just a cold. Goodnight Kate."

…

As he went back to sleep, he realized he probably was still as sick, if not even more, as he had been three days ago; but he felt far from being miserable about it. It was just a cold; it would go away on its own if he was given a bit of rest. But the memories of having his team care for him would stay. Forever.

The End


End file.
